


Maybe One Day

by killerqueenxo



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Language, Slut Shaming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-12-07 04:25:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18229865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerqueenxo/pseuds/killerqueenxo
Summary: Roger and you have agreed on a strictly friends with benefits relationship, but what happens when your feelings start to turn into something else?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this fic came from this request: "I was hoping you could do one for Roger where the reader and Rog start a plain and simple friends with benefits relationship but after a few months she finds herself absolutely in love with him but he doesn’t want anything else than that with her but she can’t bring herself to walk away from him."
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to be taken as truth or fact; I do not claim to own Brian May or Queen.
> 
> You can also find this work posted to my Tumblr, @killer-queen-xo. Please enjoy.

It had started simple enough. You had met Roger after a _Smile_ gig one Saturday night. At the request of your roommate, you had ventured out into the crisp autumn air to take in a more lively scenery that didn’t consist of four walls and a desk where you sat pouring over your latest paper. No, the request wasn’t lost on you - you knew exactly why you were here - _to get fucked_ , as your over the top, too drunk to stand roommate had so eloquently put it. You rolled your eyes at her antics, slightly embarrassed on her behalf; the band hadn’t even started playing and she was already plastered.

Getting “fucked” wasn’t exactly at the top of your to-do list as you stood among a gaggle of excited, yet slightly intoxicated, college students waiting for a band that may or may not even play well. Your inner thoughts came to a screeching halt; however, as you watched the band take the stage. You heard many of the pub patrons trying to decipher who the new lead singer was but you were trying your damnedest to peer around this particular individual to get a good look at the man who had seated himself behind the drum kit.

“- and Roger, of course,” the guitarist had said, pointing behind himself and snapping you back to reality. “The biggest member of them all.” A girl from the other side of the pub yelled a, “hey, Roger!” in his direction causing the most brilliant smile you had ever seen to grace his lips. _Don’t forget to smile_ , you thought, _how fitting_.

The night carried on smoothly enough after that. The band played well, very well; your roommate became even more trashed than you thought was possible; and you imbibed a few drinks yourself, throwing all inhibitions to the wind and gaining a newfound confidence. After the show, you and your roommate stumbled out of the pub, giggling like schoolgirls before you gracefully stumbled over nothing in particular and fell directly into the arms of none other than Roger himself.

“Whoah, there,” he chuckled lightly, placing you back on your feet. “Looks like someone had a good night.”

Not sure if it was the alcohol clouding your judgment or the fact that you were practically _drowning_ in his ocean eyes, but you find yourself saying, “and it looks like it just got a lot better,” before you could stop yourself.

Your eyes go wide and he laughs at your shocked expression. He turns back to look at the band for a moment before resting his gaze back on your face. “Well, I’m not sure about the rest of the boys and I’ll be honest, I don’t know what happened to your friend, but I’m willing to keep this night going-,” he pauses, eyeing you carefully. “If that’s something you want, doll.”

Warmth spreads through your body and you think back to the abandoned paper you left on your desk. _It will just have to wait_ , you thought. You were going home with this man. Sure enough, before the hour was up, you were in his bed; a moaning, writhing mess beneath him.

=========

You had both agreed that your quick fling was nothing more than that; a one time thing. But one time turned into two times which eventually turned into five times and now, a few months have passed, and you and Roger are still thoroughly enjoying these quick trysts whenever you possibly can. You were fine with this arrangement, really, you were. No strings attached. But, you would be a liar if you didn’t admit that your mind often wondered to what else the two of you could be if you just went for it, together - diving in head first.

Roger made you happy. When you weren’t hooking up, you did hang out together as friends. You would go to gigs and watch as the boys came up with new ideas in the studio. When they recorded their first album, you were over the moon with excitement - you showed him just how much that night. In return, he would come over and help you study, even if it was on a topic he knew nothing about, and he would take days off from recording just to do nothing but laze around with you.

As for the sex, well, Roger could make you feel good in a number of ways. Some days, it would be soft and sweet. He would lay you down, fingers and tongue moving over every crevice of your body before filling you fully with his cock, stretching you just the right amount. He would move slowly, soft words of endearment pouring from his lips, before both of you came together. Other times, it would be hard and rough. He’d call you right before leaving the studio, simply saying, “I’m coming over.” Typically, this would mean the pressures of coming up with new ideas had taken their toll and he just wanted to let off some steam. He would arrive and take you anywhere he possibly could. Up against the wall, the couch, the kitchen counter, or the bed (if you could both make it there). He would pound into you relentlessly, forcing every wanton moan to come flooding from your lips, leaving you a quivering mess beneath him, begging for more.

The sharp reality that you were completely in love with him hit you one afternoon as you helped him and the boys pack their gear up for their next gig. Rain was coming down in a steady downpour and you were doing your best to get the equipment from the building to the van without too much rain coming into contact with anything. You had just finished packing up a few cables and mic stands when you heard a few girls giggling across the way. You turn in the direction of the sound and watch as Roger flashes them a wink and a bright smile; a look you had thought he had reserved only for you. You weren’t together, you knew that, but it didn’t stop the tinge of jealousy that waded its way into your heart at the sight.

You decided to ignore the situation entirely. You couldn’t control Roger, no one could. But, by ignoring _it_ , it also meant ignoring _him_ , and by the end of the night, he had had enough of your behavior and corned you backstage after the show.

“What’s going on with you tonight, love?”

“Nothing,” you reply nonchalantly. “Just tired, is all.”

“That’s bullshit. You’ve been sulking all day. What’s got you in such a mood?”

“You!” You snap back immediately. You didn’t mean to, but his blasé tone had pushed you over the edge. “You’ve got me in a mood! But, hey, why waste your time trying to figure out what’s wrong with me when there are tons of girls out in the audience that would love nothing more than to reward you for a job well done tonight?”

You weren’t sure what had come over you, and if you weren’t bristling with anger, you may have laughed at his confused expression. He looked a bit like a lost puppy, head tilted slightly to the side, eyes blown out from previous adrenaline and now confusion. “Love, I- I don’t understand what’s going on here.”

“Of course you don’t,” you scoff lightly.

“If this is about what happened earlier, they were just passing by. It didn’t-”

“Didn’t what? Didn’t mean anything? It never means anything. You spend all your time flitting about like the rock star you are, lapping up anything any girl has to offer and then when the day is done, you call _me_ up, come over, and fuck _me_ any way you want to before you start the cycle all over again! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?” You were yelling now and you weren’t sure why. He was right, it didn’t mean anything. _That was the agreement_ , you chided yourself.

“I didn’t realize you felt this way, (y/n).” You roll your eyes at his words and this incenses him. “Now, hold on a minute. I let you say what you needed to say, now you let me!” At your silence, he continues. “I didn’t realize you felt this way but, love, are you forgetting the agreement?”

You lift your gaze to meet his and any anger that was within you washes away entirely, replaced fully by a sadness you aren’t sure he will ever understand. You’re at a loss for words and even if you did have something to say, you wouldn’t trust your voice not to betray you.

“Look-,” he begins. His presses his lips in a firm line, breathing deeply. “The band is really going somewhere and I- they need me, (y/n). I have to give this my all. I need you to understand that.” He cups your face in his hands, wiping the stray tears from your face that you hadn’t realized had started falling.

“I do understand, but I need _you_ to understand that I love you,” you whisper, letting your gaze fall to the floor. “I love you so much, Rog.”

He sighs. “I know you do, love. I know now. But, I- I can’t do it. Not right now.” He moves his hands from your face and traces them down your arms, taking your hands in his. “I know you’re hurting so if you want to stop all of this, just say the word. But, if you want to hold on for just a little longer, at least until things get settled, maybe one day we can revisit this conversation?” He lifts your chin with his finger, eyes meeting yours, and offers a small smile.

“Maybe one day?” you whisper. He hums in response, placing a kiss to your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against your body, deepening the kiss. _It may not be right away_ , you think, _but maybe one day_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this chapter came from this request: "Hiiii I really loved ‘Maybe One Day’ <3 <3 is there a chance of a part 2? Maybe where Roger and the reader keep sleeping around but then she meets somebody new and starts taking distance from Rog and he has to fight for her or something like that?"
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to be taken as truth or fact; I do not claim to own Brian May or Queen.
> 
> You can also find this work posted to my Tumblr, @killer-queen-xo. Please enjoy.

You were an idiot. Or, that’s what you told yourself each time you stumbled back into your flat after a late night rendezvous with the one and only Roger Taylor. It was 8:00 AM when you pushed open the door to your humble abode; Roger had to meet the rest of the boys at the studio early that morning so you skedaddled the first chance you could. You received a quizzical expression from him at your abrupt departure but you assured him that it was only because you wanted to take a hot shower and eat something that didn’t come from the diner down the street. It wasn’t technically a lie, you did want to do these things, but standing in the shower, hot water cascading down your back and steam wrapping itself in the air around you, you realized you were not only not being honest with Roger, but you weren’t being honest with yourself.

His promise of revisiting a conversation lit a fire inside of you and you watched patiently as the boys began their rise to the top. You lost count of how many shows you went to or how many hours you sat in the studio listening to them go back and forth over the same song - always the perfectionists. You were proud of him and you would admit, if only to yourself, that the reward of calling Roger yours in the end made the uphill climb that much sweeter.

The subtle shift in your feelings appeared when he announced an upcoming tour to you. Their most recent album had hit the charts in the U.S. and the band booked a full tour of America. You were thrilled for him and the rest of the boys but you couldn’t help the inkling of doubt that settled into your heart at the thought of him being in another part of the world for _months_. He promised to call and he did, when he could. International calls were expensive and the band still wasn’t making that much money so those phone calls you started looking forward to slowly became more and more infrequent. You had friends to keep you occupied and your studies took up time but it was in the late evenings, after another night had gone by where he didn’t call, that you would think about him the most - that you would wonder to yourself: _what the hell am I doing?_

When the band returned from tour, his first stop was to come and see you. He wrapped you up in his arms and spent the entire afternoon worshiping your body in every way he could. Afterwards, he told you about the tour and you couldn’t help the lazy smile that stretched across your face at his excitement. He was so happy with how well the band was being received and things seemed to be settling into their rightful place. You thought that maybe this had to be it; you two would finally be together. He; however, made no inclination that he wanted to pursue the relationship further than what it was and by the next week, he was back in the studio working on the next album. The _maybe one day_ he had promised was starting to look more like a _maybe never_.

Now here you sit - in the studio - _again_. It was the third time this week and your patience was wearing thin. The heat accumulating in the air was slowly becoming unbearable. There were no windows to open, the drabby studio didn’t come with an air conditioner, and the shoddy little fan you pulled out of a storage closet had succumbed rather quickly. There was also Roger who often took it upon himself to drum a lot harder than what was necessary to drown out Brian who could never get his solo _quite right_. The two men would then proceed to bicker, rather loudly, on how the other was ‘ruining the tempo’. Freddie would then slink out of the sound booth and come between the two before the crackling tension suffocated everyone present. _Around and around we go_ , you thought. It was moments like these where you truly admired John. He didn’t involve himself in these meaningless confrontations and, instead, chose to ignore his band mates and focus solely on his bass. The only detection he gave that he was listening was the occasional side-eye; other than that, nothing.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look a bit put out.”

The voice startles you from your reverie and you glance up to find the new sound tech, Dan, standing next to you. Dan was an intern with EMI and was looking for worldly experience in the field. Queen was a wonderful choice for that; never the same day twice. He would learn plenty.

You liked Dan, you had no reason not to. The two of you had spoken a handful of times, always light and casual, but he seemed nice enough. It was also difficult to deny how handsome he was sometimes. His dark hair and deep green eyes were very different from what you had grown used to with Roger and his internship as a sound tech appealed to you far more than you cared to admit. It wasn’t the sound tech position itself but more so, the simplicity of it. The desire to not have to worry about whether you were good enough compared to the hundreds of women that flocked Roger on tour weighed heavily on your mind and the idea of being with someone with a less hectic lifestyle was appealing, if not desirable.

You chuckle in response. “A bit, yeah. They’ve been at it for hours.”

He gives you a small smile and gestures to the seat beside you. At your nod, he seats himself next to you - not close enough to be considered uncomfortable but enough where you could both speak without having the rest of the studio hear.

“It’s a wonder they ever get anything done.”

“I think it’s their process,” you state simply. “Argue for a bit, then come together and make magic or something like that.”

He hums in amusement. “So, which, uh, which one are you with?”

“Huh?!” You splutter in response, his question catching you off guard.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you! It’s just, I see you in here all the time but you never arrive with anyone and you always leave with everyone. I just figured, you’re so pretty so one of them should be so lucky but, then again, maybe you’re a really good friend and-”

“Dan! _Stop_.” He exhales slowly, a tight-lipped smile gracing his features. “You didn’t offend me. The question caught me off guard, is all. But, uh no, I’m not with any of them. I’m the good friend, like you said, with never ending support.”

The dryness in your tone catches his attention and he follows your line of sight which has lingered on Roger for a bit longer than intended. “Ah, I see. He has quite the reputation, doesn’t he?” You hum in response, words slowly beginning to fail you as the seconds tick by.

“Listen, I- I know you’re probably not interested but, um, if you ever need a break and want to talk or not talk, that’s fine too, maybe we could get a coffee sometime?” He asks slowly. “Of course, only if you want to, no pressure!”

“ _Dan_ ,” you chuckle lightly. “Breathe. That sounds lovely. Besides, you did call me pretty.” You shift your gaze in his direction, eyes dancing with mischief.

“You heard that,” he mumbles. “Of course you did. I meant it. You are and- and I would very much like to take you out.”

“How about now? Can you do now?”

“Now? Right now? Really?”

“Really, really.”

“Ye- yeah! Yeah! Let me just see if Roy needs anything else and then I’m all yours,” he says, eyes going wide at the realization of his statement. “I mean, not _all yours_ but I- I- can you give me five minutes?”

You nod again, laughing lightly. “I’ll just meet you outside.”

He exhales with a smile and turns back into the sound booth leaving you in solidarity once again. You stand from your spot with a stretch and glance back to the boys to see if any progression has been made. Brian appears to have given up on the conversation entirely and has turned his back on the other two to focus on his guitar. Freddie and Roger have migrated back to the drum kit and were now discussing a particular sound that was needed for the track. Roger hadn’t seemed to notice your conversation with Dan and knowing you wouldn’t get a word in during his conversation with Freddie, you silently gather your things and head outside to wait for Dan. You don’t bother to say goodbye.

=========

The knock at your door interrupts your quiet night in at around 10:00 PM. You reluctantly pull yourself out of bed and pad your way down the hallway to the living room, annoyance seeping through your veins. It could only be one person, no one else would ever show up this late. You crack open the door, on the off chance you were wrong and it _was_ someone else entirely, but there he was: Roger. You open the door further, allowing him inside, and he kisses your cheek as he passes by.

“I know it’s late, love, but you disappeared on us today.” He seats himself on the far end of your couch, arm draped over the back. It’s an open yet silent gesture for you to sit next to him.

You ignore the offer and turn back to lock up, taking an unusually long time to do so, mumbling, “Yeah, I went out for coffee with Dan.”

You didn’t want to face this conversation head on. Roger could be a ticking time bomb, always moments away from detonating. He will work himself up over the smallest things and you used to joke with him that it was slightly entertaining to watch as it was so much anger inside such a small body. But, when it came to things that Roger was passionate about like the band or _you_ , it was never just a fleeting moment of anger. It was like watching the sky open up to give way to a heavy downpour that washes away everything in sight when moments before, clear skies. Yes, Roger was passionate about you, but not in the way you wanted.

“The sound tech?” He asks incredulously.

You whip back around, eyes narrowing at his tone. “ _Yes_ , and his name is Dan.”

Roger averts his eyes, glancing around the small living room as if someone was in waiting to jump out and let him in on a joke he thought he was missing. When that didn’t come, he rests his eyes back on your face, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He scoffs lightly before asking, “ _Why_?”

“‘Why?’ What do you mean, ‘Why?’” You cross your arms over your chest, foot tapping lightly against the hardwood floor.

“I mean, you know,” he gestures wildly with his right hand as if that would convey everything he was _not_ saying. “Why?”

“Because he asked-”

“So? I don’t under-”

“-and because I wanted to.”

He drops his gaze to the floor while simultaneously lowering his arm from the back of the couch. His invitation to have you near him was no longer an option; he was closing himself off. After what feels like an eternity of silence, he whispers, “You like him then?”

“I don’t know, Rog. Maybe. I like the way he makes me feel.”

He shifts under your gaze and places his hands in his lap, appearing as a small, vulnerable child. He sniffs lightly, clearing his throat. “And what way is that?”

“Honestly?” He gives you an imperceptible nod. “Wanted.”

“I want you,” he whispers, barely audible.

“When it’s convenient for you, you mean.”

His eyes snap up to yours, anger flashing behind his irises. You take a step back at the sharp change in his demeanor. Gone were the skies of blue, the clouds have rolled in and the downpour is fast approaching. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Oh, come on, Roger! You know _exactly_ what I’m saying to you! The only time you _want_ me is when you’re _fucking_ me!” You shout, venom dripping off every syllable. “Outside of that, you’re off living your rock star high life sparing no thought to me whatsoever.”

He pushes himself up from the couch, his right index finger pointing dangerously in your direction. “[Y/N], we talked about this! I-”

“THAT WAS MONTHS AGO, ROGER!” Your voice cracks and he flinches slightly at the unexpected volume. You let out a choked laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “ _You said_ when things got settled, we’d talk. Things settled, Rog! It took _months_ to finish that album but I waited and then you went on tour for _two months_ but I still waited and now?! Now you’re back in the studio working on another fucking album! You’ve established a routine, Rog, _things settled_!”

You exhale sharply, eyes blinking rapidly to stop the onslaught of tears pricking your eyes. Sniffing lightly, you avert your gaze to the dust bunnies dancing across the baseboards. A tear slips from your eye and bridges itself at the tip of your nose before falling unceremoniously to the floor. You swipe your foot across the tear, watching the floorboards discolor slightly as they soak up your pain.

Roger steps closer to you, hands trailing up your arms to the curvature of your neck. He cups your face in his hands, swiping the fallen tears from your cheeks. The gentle touch jolts you to meet his gaze and his blue eyes are no longer flashing with anger but swimming with distress. “[Y/N], I- I’m so sorry, baby.”

You shimmy out of his grasp, moving to prop yourself up on the arm of the couch. You watch as the muscles in his back tense underneath his tight fitting denim button-up. You’re temporarily distracted by the movement until he lets out a shaky breath. He runs a hand through his hair and turns back to face you.

“So, that’s it then? You’re giving up?”

“‘Giving up?’,” you scoff. “Roger, you can’t give up on something you never had.”

“You had me!”

“I never had you! Not really! And I-,” you pause, pressing your lips together, willing yourself to keep it together for a few more minutes. “I cannot continue to put _my life_ on hold while you figure out yours. I won’t.”

He scoffs, hands firmly placed on his hips. “I see. So, you’re gonna settle for _Dan_ , the _sound tech intern_? Stellar choice.”

Your jaw tenses at his mocking tone and before you can stop yourself, “Yeah? Well, I think I owe it to myself to try. At least he knows what he wants.”

You want to take it back. Every fiber of your being is screaming as if you had showered in gasoline and set yourself aflame. It was a low blow but if he was hurt by it, he doesn’t let it show. He nods slightly, lips pursed in thought, before turning to leave.

You shoot up from your position on the couch, fumbling to grasp his hand. As much as you liked Dan, you loved Roger; you knew that for certain. There was an aching pain pricking at your heart and you want desperately to pull him into you and never let go. But, you don’t and you won’t. His fingers tangle with yours and a melancholy smile adorns his features.

“I hope he makes you happy, [Y/N],” he whispers. “This won’t affect anything, just so you know. With Dan, I mean. He can still work with us. I may be a lot of things but I’m not cruel and I know how much it would hurt you if I punished him when this is my own fault-”

“Rog-”

“-It’s okay, love. You gave me _so_ much time already.” He gives you a calm, reassuring smile as he traces his hand lightly across your cheek. “I wish I knew what kept me from you.”

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes to keep the tears from spilling over. The hand on your cheek curves around your neck and he leans forward to brush his lips across your forehead. He pulls back and rests his forehead on yours and just as soon as he was there, he’s gone, door clicking softly behind him. When you will yourself to finally open your eyes, you’re met with the unfamiliar sensation of loneliness and the invasive thought of whether you did, in fact, make the right choice.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, peeps, the final part! Thanks to all who have stuck around and I truly hope every one of you enjoyed it!
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to be taken as truth or fact; I do not claim to own Roger Taylor or Queen.
> 
> You can also find this work posted to my Tumblr, @killer-queen-xo. Please enjoy.

You were in a state of euphoria. It had never been like this before. His tongue was working you over in ways you never thought possible and his hands were splayed across your inner thighs, pushing them wider for more access. Your fingers were tangled in his hair as you rut your hips against his mouth; you were desperate for more friction in the spot you needed him most. His hands travel up to your hips, holding you down to stop your ministrations.

A cracked whine escapes your throat and he hums against your slick folds. His tongue dances around your entrance for a few more seconds before he licks back up to suck fervently on your clit. His left hand holds your hips firmly in place while his right snakes down to push two fingers into your heat. He pumps his fingers in and out at an agonizingly slow pace, crooking them up to brush along your walls. Your hands drop from his hair to twist around the bed sheets, pleasure coursing through your veins.

“More,” you whimper. “ _Please_.”

He suckles at your clit for a moment before pulling away with a delicious _pop_. He pumps his fingers inside of you one, two, three more times before pulling out and licking the taste from his fingers. He lifts himself into a sitting position on his knees and wraps your legs around his waist; his fingers trace lightly across your skin - caressing and kneading your flesh.

“You want more?” You nod softly and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Use your words, love, tell me what you want.”

“You,” you whisper. “I want you. _Please_.”

“Oh, I see. You want to wrap your tight cunt around my cock. Is that what it is?” If it were possible, you might have come undone from his words alone but you were willing yourself to hold it together. You wanted to savor the feeling of him deep inside of you so, instead, you nod weakly in response.

“Yes. I want you inside me.”

He leans over you, taking your right nipple into his mouth. Your head tilts back in ecstasy as he swirls his tongue around, biting softly. He brings his left hand up to tweak the other between his thumb and forefinger and another broken moan escapes your lips. He chuckles lightly, pulling himself away from you to position himself back into his original spot.

“You think you deserve it?” You open your eyes, casting a weak glace up at him. He stares darkly down at you awaiting your answer. Again, you nod softly.

“Oh, you do, do you?” He presses his thumb to your clit and a jolt of pleasure shoots through your body. “You’re so needy. So desperate for me to fill you up. Well, who am I to deny you, darling?”

Still kneeling, he angles your hips up and you wrap your legs back around his waist. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds before sheathing himself to the hilt inside of you. The initial stretch sends a burning sensation through your body but it doesn’t stop you from moaning at the feel of him. He hisses lightly, “ _fuck_ , you’re so tight.”

His thrusts are achingly slow and you wonder if he’s punishing you. Your right hand is twisted in the bed sheets while your left is gripping his forearm, nails digging into his skin. Each thrust is deeper than the last and the tip of his cock brushes against your sweet spot. You arch your back and he snakes his arm under you pulling you up to have you flush against his chest. You wrap your arms around his neck, head tipped back and mouth open in blissed out pleasure.

“Who do you belong to?” He whispers, nibbling at your earlobe. “Tell me, baby.”

“ _You_. I belong to you.”

You grind your hips down to match his every thrust which have slowly become erratic. He trails wet kisses down your neck and his hand is rubbing circles into your clit. “ _Say it_ ,” he grumbles against your skin. “Tell me who you belong to. _Say my name_.”

He stops his thrusts, letting you roll your hips to garner the friction needed to send yourself over the edge. He moans against your hot skin as you fuck yourself on his cock. With one last firm press of his thumb to your clit, your vision blurs and you’re cumming hard around him, his name falling from your lips in a scream: _Roger!_

Your eyes shoot open and you’re immediately met with the stale darkness of your bedroom. You could see fragments of sunlight peeking through the rifts in the curtains and the occasional songbird breaks the serene silence that settles in the air around you. Sprawled across your empty bed and chest heaving, you chance a glance at the alarm clock perched on your bedside table. 9:04 AM. _It was a dream._

It had been two months since the fateful argument with Roger meaning it had been two months since you last laid eyes on him. This; however, did not stop him from invading your dreams every chance he could. When he departed that night, he took every semblance of himself with him. It wasn’t just the phone calls and visits that stopped but also the late night movie marathons, the chaste kisses before a show between whispers of ‘good luck’, and the drunken laughter afterwards when adrenaline was still running high. Long gone were the way his eyes searched for yours in a crowd full of people while he played and the soft smile that danced across his lips when it was only the two of you and no one else in the world mattered. It was as if he ceased to have ever existed in your life and so these dreams that plagued your mind almost every night were just part of your subconscious working against you. It had nothing to do with Roger, you knew that, but you needed someone to blame. Someone that wasn’t you.

With an eye roll and a huff, you fling the covers from your sweaty body. You were in desperate need of a shower at this point; not just to wash the grime clean from your body but you were also hoping to wash your guilt down the drain after having yet another crazed sex dream about your former lover.

You begrudgingly pull yourself from bed and make your way into the bathroom, refusing to look directly into the mirror and acknowledge the dishevelment you knew would be your entire being. You already felt guilty enough, you didn’t need to lock eyes with your traitorous reflection and take into account exactly what a dream-personified version of Roger could do to you. You pull back the shower curtain and set to adjusting the water temperature to your liking before peeling your pajamas from your sticky body and stepping under the cascading stream.

You weren’t even sure why you felt guilty. It wasn’t as if you ran directly into Dan’s arms after Roger left; it was quite the opposite. You spent the first two weeks wallowing in your own self pity and fighting with yourself over whether you should just cave and call Roger. Your stubbornness got the best of you; however, and you refused to do that. It was well into the second week when you realized that relationships go both ways and that he could just as easily call you. When he never did, you decided enough was enough and you were going to move on from Roger Taylor. You didn’t need the temperamental drummer with eyes like the ocean and a smile that could light up the night sky.

But you wanted him.

That much remained to be true even now. This is now why you find yourself scrubbing your skin raw in the shower, trying to erase every semblance of your mind’s extracurricular activities from the night before. Besides, you had Dan now and Dan made you happy. Right? _Right_.

You had called Dan up after the second week and asked him out for coffee. He jumped at the opportunity to see you again and, as they say, the rest was history. Your relationship with Dan was simple and nothing at all like the one you had with Roger. You promised yourself you would take this one slow and you have, you really have. Dan was sweet and charming and had a wicked sense of humor that could leave you breathless but that was the extent of it. Sure, there was hand-holding and the occasional chaste kiss here and there but it was nothing compared to the all consuming passion that raged within you whenever you were with Roger. You didn’t want to get caught up in another whirlwind romance that would leave you devastated at the end no matter how good Dan’s intentions seemed to be. He _seemed_ genuinely interested in making the relationship work and the two of you actually were a couple. It’s more than you ever had with Roger.

_But it’s not the same and you don’t want it._

“Yes, I do!” You state matter-of-factly to no one in particular. You snap back to reality and realize that you haven’t actually accomplished anything in the shower aside from getting lost in your own head.

You turn off the faucet, the water already losing its warmth anyway, and wrap a towel around your body. Padding your way into the kitchen for a cup of coffee, you pause at the calendar hanging in your hallway. Looking at the date, you remember you have a brunch date with Dan at 11:00 AM and you rush back into your bedroom to rifle through your closet for something to wear. Casting a glance at your alarm clock, you notice the time: 10:23 AM.

“Why was I in the shower so long?”

Groaning to yourself, you settle on a pair of faded jeans and a sweater. Rushing back into your living room, you pull on your shoes and grab your keys and purse laying on the table by the door. Doing a quick once over to ensure you have everything, you bolt out the front door and make your way to the café for your date. In your haste, you completely forget to untangle the knots in your hair from your restless night.

==========

Coming to a halt in front of the café, you catch your reflection in a nearby window. Running your fingers through your mess of hair, you attempt to tame it before walking inside to find Dan. Dan was seated in a back, corner booth with his back turned toward you. Sliding up beside him, you give him a small peck on the cheek before sitting opposite of him and taking a gulp of water.

“Rough morning or long night?”

You choke on your water before setting the glass back down and granting him a tight lipped smile. No teeth. _I forgot to brush my teeth!_

“Uhm, both?”

He chuckles lightly, casting a quick glance over your frame. He wets his lips before pressing them into a firm line. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Dan, I’m _so_ sorry! I just had the worst start to my morning after having the _weirdest_ dream and-”

“What kind of dream?” He asks softly, laying his menu flat on the table.

You gape. _Why?! Why would you say that?!_

“The weirdest one,” you say slowly, enunciating each word.

He arches an eyebrow. “The weirdest one?”

“Yep,” you state, popping the _p_ and nodding slowly.

“Right. Okay,” he clears his throat sharply. “Can I just- what is this about?”

“What do you mean?”

“You- do you not actually like me or what is this?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “What? Of _course_ I like you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Fine. Let me rephrase that. You don’t love me.” He states simply, matter-of-factly.

You can’t help the burst of laughter that erupts from you. “Lo- _Dan_. It’s barely been two months. We’re still getting to know each other. I-I-I- _slow!_ I said I wanted to do this slowly. That’s what we agreed on!”

He scoffs. “Slow? Like how slow you went when you fucked Roger the first night you met him?”

It was as if he slapped you. He might as well have. Averting your eyes, you took in every patron in the café - all occasionally glancing in your direction before leaning over to whisper to the person next to them. He made you the joke of the day; the story that these patrons would leave with to chat around the water cooler at work about or spread like honey on a biscuit when taking a break at their book clubs. You felt small, smaller than you ever thought you would be in Dan’s presence and he, he looked victorious. _Smug_.

“That was different,” you whisper, barely trusting your own voice. You didn’t want anymore attention than you already had.

He scoffs _again_ , crossing his arms with a shrug. “Different how exactly? Different like how you thought you actually meant something to him?”

“Stop.”

“Or, what about, different like how you thought you were any more special than the groupies he _fucked_ on tour? How many do you think there were?”

“ _Stop_.”

“What? You don’t honestly think he was _loyal_ to you, do you? He didn’t even _want_ you? Well, aside from fucking you that is.”

“I said, _STOP!_ ”

If you didn’t have everyone’s attention before, you definitely did now. Silence permeated the air and the only sound you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. You slide out of the booth, raking your fingers through your tangled hair.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” you hiss. “You don’t know me, you don’t know Roger, and you sure as hell don’t know _us_. It wasn’t perfect, but it was ours, and that means more to me than any single day I’ve had with you.”

You turn sharply on your heel, prepared to storm dramatically from the café but stop suddenly. You feel it deep within, the small piece of you that wants to hurt Dan just as bad as he hurt you. You slowly turn back to face him, jaw clenched and eyes made of steel.

“You want to know how it was different?” You ask, venom dripping from your words. “Because he’s the drummer in a widely successful band and you’re just a _fucking intern_. You don’t hold a candle to Rog.”

And with _that_ , you storm dramatically from the café.

==========

When you arrived back home from your _date_ with Dan, it was still early. You kick off your shoes at the door and drop your keys and purse unceremoniously back onto the table before closing every blind and curtain in sight. You didn’t want to be seen; not after the embarrassment you were just subjected to. Once you’ve shrouded your entire flat in darkness, you shuffle into your bedroom and collapse onto your bed, sleep taking you instantly.

It’s the knock on your door that shakes you from sleep. You peer at your alarm clock: 6:23 PM. You slept for most of the day. Pulling yourself up, you’re hit with the onslaught of memories from the day and anger sets deep into your bones. The knocking at your door begins to become more persistent and you jerk the covers from your body, barreling into the living room to swing the door open.

“ _What?!_ ”

You were convinced it was going to be Dan, back for another round. But, it wasn’t his intense green eyes that you’re met with. These eyes are as blue as the sky on a clear summer day.

“Roger?” You ask breathlessly.

He’s staring at you, eyes blown wide. You had almost forgotten what he looked like. _Almost_.

“Wow. Hi. It’s- it’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

“Roger, what are you doing here?”

His hand tucks itself underneath the collar of his shirt, rubbing the skin between his neck and shoulder. “You- something happened today. With Dan, didn’t it?”

You arch an eyebrow. _Is this why he was here? To talk about_ Dan _?_

“Can I-,” he peers over his shoulder as if everyone in the vicinity was listening in on the conversation. “Can I come in so we don’t have to have this conversation with your door wide open?”

You bite your lower lip, mulling the idea over in your head. _If you let him in, you’ll just be letting heartbreak back in_.

“Can it be any worse than what I went through today?” You whisper out loud.

“What?”

You shake your head roughly. “Nothing, sure, come in.”

You stand to the side as he passes by you. He used to greet you with a kiss to the lips or cheek but he doesn’t touch you this time. It almost seems as if he’s been invited in for the first time. He doesn’t know where to stand or if he should sit and he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands.

“I see the place hasn’t changed much,” he chuckles softly in an attempt to ease the tension.

You close the door softly, bolting the lock back in place, before crossing your arms over your chest. “What are you doing here, Rog?”

His gaze meets yours and his eyes soften at your disheveled state. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“With?”

“With what happened with Dan.” He chuckles softly at your confused expression. “How would I know about that, right? I know you saw him this morning, not because I was there, but because he came _directly_ to the studio after whatever encounter the two of you had.”

“Oh my God,” you breathe, eyes going wide with the endless possibilities of what could have happened.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Let’s just say, if looks could kill, I most certainly would not be standing here right now.”

“Roger, I am _so_ sorry! He never should have said or done anything to you or the others! This is all my fault!” You drop down on your couch, placing your head in your hands.

You feel the couch dip slightly beside you and you jump when you feel his hand on your upper back. He rubs soothing circles into the skin and you have to stop yourself from moaning at the contact.

“Did he say something to you?”

“Uhm, not _to_ me, more _at_ me. Something about you still being in love with me and that I ruined everything and, I don’t know, he got awfully close and then Brian stepped in before it got too out of control.”

“Thank God for Brian,” you chuckle softly.

“Yeah. Depends on who you ask. So, was he right?”

You turn your head to meet his gaze and he’s a lot closer than you anticipated. You can feel his breath fanning your face and it takes all of your strength to pull out of his grasp and shift further down the couch away from him. You don’t miss the look of dejection that briefly crosses his features.

“About what?”

“About you still being in love with me.”

You whip your head in his direction, eyes flashing with anger. “Oh my God, why are you _here_ , Roger?!”

He lets out a short laugh. “I don’t understand. Dan breaks your heart and you attack _me_? I am just here to see if you’re okay. To talk to you, [Y/N]!”

“It makes no difference! It’s irrelevant! Whether I do or not doesn’t matter!” You jump from your spot on the couch, moving to stand next to the door.

He stays seated on your couch, arms by his sides, and a look of distress across his face. It’s the same setup as two months ago. You standing by the door, anger pulsing through your body. Roger sitting on your couch looking for words to console you with and pull you back from the edge you have so dangerously wandered towards.

“I don’t think that’s the case,” he whispers softly. “It’s relevant.”

“Almost as relevant as the dream Dan wanted to know about,” you mumble to yourself.

“What dream?”

He heard you. _Of course he did_. “Nothing. Irrelevant.”

A cheeky smile spreads slowly across his face and he gives you a knowing look. “You’ve been dreaming about me, [Y/N]?”

“That _is_ irrelevant,” you state.

He holds his hands up in mock surrender before a laugh erupts from him. “Oh, come on, [Y/N]! We haven’t seen each other in, what, _two months_? It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Yeah? And whose fault is it that we haven’t seen each other?” This was a stupid question, you knew it, but the words fell from your lips before you could stop them.

He scoffs. “Yours.”

You press your lips in a firm line, turning away from him. He was right. You knew he was. You were the one who broke off the arrangement. You were the one who wanted to give Dan a try. You were the one who never reached out for two months.

“You could have called me.”

“I could have. I could have also stopped by. But, you could have done the same,” he admonishes. “Sweetheart, I- it’s what you _wanted_. I was only respecting what you wanted.”

You hear him shift on the couch and before you know it, he’s standing in front of you, lifting your chin with his finger. You force yourself to meet his gaze and you never wanted to drown in his eyes as much as you did in that moment. To submerge yourself and never break for air.

“[Y/N], I- I wanted to call you _every day_. I wanted to see you _every day_. Not because of what I could get out of it but because it’s not right when you’re not there. And, yeah, you were right. I wasted _so_ much time when I could have had you and _he_ ,” he pauses, clearing his throat sharply. “Look, I don’t know what he said to you and I don’t want to know. I don’t know what Brian said to _him_ but he quit after it was all over. I don’t care as long as I don’t have to see him again. As long as _you_ don’t have to see him again.”

“Roger-”

“Let me finish. I messed up. But, I think you did too. I think we got comfortable in that stupid little arrangement we had and before either of us could do anything about it, it pulled us apart. It doesn’t have to be like that this time. It’s still relevant, if you accept it. _We’re_ still relevant.”

You search his eyes for any trace of a lie but find not one hidden away. You bring your hand up to trace the curve of his jaw and his eyes flutter shut as he places a soft kiss to the inside of your palm.

“Roger, I want to. I’ve always wanted to but I can’t love you if you don’t love me back,” you whisper weakly, voice cracking from unabashed emotion. “I can’t do this again.”

“Who says I don’t?”

You snap your eyes up to meet his and the intensity in his stare is unlike anything you’ve encountered before. You were used to his intensity when he was temperamental; the clouds would roll in behind his eyes and a storm would rock the ocean there. You were used to his intensity when he was passionate; the blue would become hazy and you could rock yourself along the current. This was different. This intensity was encompassing, pulling you further and further down into the depths but you didn’t want to struggle to get free; you wanted to accept it.

“Rog-”

“I messed up, [Y/N]. I can admit that as many times as you want or I can try and fix it starting with this,” he brings his hands up to cup your face, forcing your eyes to remain locked on his. “I love you. I love you so much and as stupid as it may sound, it took me losing you to see, no, to _feel_ how much I needed you to be there. You’ve been there since the beginning and no one comes close to making me feel the way that you do.”

You tilt your head softly into his touch, a tiny smile pulling at your lips. “Say it again.”

He chuckles softly. “I love you.”

“Again.”

His eyes move from your eyes to your lips and back up, a silent request. You give an imperceptible nod and he closes the gap, lips molding against yours.

He pulls back enough to whisper, “I,” _kiss_ “love,” _kiss_ “you,” _kiss_.

On the final kiss, you pull back enough to graze your teeth against his bottom lip. He lets out a soft moan that sends a chill cascading down your spine. You tangle your hands in his hair, pulling him to where he can rest his forehead on yours.

“Good. Now show me.”

And he does.


End file.
